Lonely at the Top
by CassandraRoseCrane
Summary: Look inside Miranda Priestly's journal to see what she really thinks about Andrea.


**Lonely at the Top**

Yesterday, I happened upon the experience of my assistant's unceremonious desertion of her post. This most unfortunate event occurred as I was ascending the stairs to a very important event pertaining to the fall shows. While in the car on the way to the event, I mentioned to my assistant that she reminded me a lot of myself when I was younger. The statement was valid, in my opinion, because I have witnessed this young woman develop in the months since she came under my employment from an unfortunately attired, overweight, sloth of a creature to the epitome of an efficient, svelte, stylish assistant.

The distress my reflection apparently caused the young woman was evident when we arrived, for when I turned to find her in the crowd from my position on the stairs; she was walking off in the opposite direction. I called her to demand that she come back immediately, but she ignored the ringing of her palm pilot, opting to toss the device in a conveniently located fountain rather than take my call. She didn't look back. She didn't have to. We both understood this to be her resignation. She then proceeded to walk in the direction of our hotel, which was several blocks away. When I arrived back at the hotel later last night, I learned that she had already checked out and arranged for a flight back to the United States.

I should be disappointed at her disobedience. I have every right to be. Only, I can't seem to find it in myself. Not when I understand her so well. I believe this woman assumed I was relieved to have her leave my supervision. On the contrary; I found her presence in my life welcome refreshment from the type of person I am normally obligated to come in contact with. Admittedly, I hired her at first only as a challenge to myself and the others under me. In my frustration with former assistants that had looked promising, but proved to be failures, I decided to hire the one that most seemed an apparent disappointment, in hopes that she would not be.

In the months that ensued, I found this particular paradox to be true. The young woman whom I hired struggled at the beginning, which was to be expected, but quickly became my best assistant ever. I presented her with impossible tasks. She completed them with time to spare. I purposely tested her, becoming both amused when she rose to each challenge and frustrated that there seemed to be nothing she couldn't do. She became one of us, without loosing herself in the process. I began to value this young woman's work so greatly that I eventually started giving her tasks normally handled by my senior assistant. The most essential of these tasks was the trip to Paris with me.

She agreed to come to Paris with me, albeit reluctantly, when I told her I wished for her to. She knew this would be devastating to my senior assistant, whose sole reason for living at times appeared to be for this trip. I doubt she even wanted to go, wishing instead to be in New York for several weeks without me at the office. Yet, she chose to go rather than loose her own job. I submit this as more proof to the fact that she _is_ like me. Her pale face across the car from me also confirmed that she herself knew it was true when I compared her actions to those of my own when I had been threatened with the possibility of loosing my position at _Runway_.

This young woman most likely thinks I hate her. In truth, loathing is far from what I feel towards her. When I think of her, my sentiments are that of respect, perhaps jealousy too. She must have been horrified at hearing the comparison of her to myself. I understand why she would feel that way. The woman she sees me as is not a pleasant human being, to say the least. Nonetheless, her judgment is unfair; the person she sees is not the whole me.

When I said I saw myself in her, I meant much more than what she assumed. Yes, she and I were both willing to do what it took to get what we wanted, but there is more to it than that. She doesn't know that I was very much like her once. I had what she did. I graduated college and moved away from home to New York. I didn't want a job at a fashion magazine, but it fell into my hands anyway. I knew little about fashion when I started, though I venture far enough to say that I had much more personal style than my assistant did when she first came to _Runway_. Like my assistant, I had dreams of finding a career in more serious journalism at first, but once I started learning about fashion, I knew that I had found where I belonged.

After loosing the man I loved long ago, I chose to dedicate myself to relentlessly to the career I hadn't before cared much about, a decision which dramatically shaped the rest of my life. I lost touch with my family because they never understood my ambitions. I lost my friends because I ignored or used them to further my own desires. I lost husbands because they tired of me or I of them.

I laid on my bed for a long time last night, contemplating how I had come to this point in my life. I cried for him for the first time in many years. Certainly, my life would be incredibly different today if he were still here with me. I would also be utterly humiliated if he knew what my life was like now. I've lost so much. He would never be able to respect me after witnessing the various sacrifices I've made. That realization helps me live with the fact that he is gone forever, even feel somewhat grateful for it. The only things I have left are my daughters and my career, the latter of which people are already attempting to strip from me.

Therein lies the difference between myself and Andrea Sachs. When she was tested, she chose to stay true to herself. In her youthful mind, she somehow was able to comprehend what was truly important in life and keep sight of that. I was not as fortunate. I, too, understand what is important in life. I realized what it was that really mattered the day I met him. But then he was lost to me, and I chose to begin evading those things.

I awoke this morning to a headache and memories of last night's events pressing down on me, so much so that I had no other choice but to reach for this notebook as a release from them. It was engrained in my head from childhood be satisfied with what I had, but I find myself wishing for more in life than my children and my job. I most certainly will never allow anyone to take away what I do have. I love my daughters more than anything. I've worked far too hard for it to give up my position at _Runway _now.

I believe it is best not to look back. Past mistakes cannot be undone; progress can only be made by looking to the future. Yet, my past has taught me some valuable lessons. For a long time, I firmly believed that it would be better to close myself completely to love rather than have to experience the sorrow of a broken heart again. Now I am not so certain. I've learned that some risks are worth taking because the consequences of trying and failing are far better than those of not having taken the chance at all. The old cliché is true; it's lonely at the top.


End file.
